The Wistful Asylum

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-18 05:54:13 -

The stone was cold. It bit into my cheek. I tasted dust. I tasted blood. I opened one eye. The sky was the color of bruised plums. It was not the sky I knew. It was a sky that breathed. It expanded and contracted like a living lung. Below me, the trees did not sway. They shuddered. Their leaves were not green. They were grey. They were the color of ash. I stood up. My legs trembled. I was a...

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